


Hydroreactive

by TheSpectralDuke



Series: Misadventures [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Bath Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time writing Smut, Lemon, NSFW, No beta just rough smut, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, porn with excuse plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26554285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpectralDuke/pseuds/TheSpectralDuke
Summary: Maurelin has heard of substances that react violently to contact with water. He never imagined Tahla would end up counting among them.
Series: Misadventures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938301
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Hydroreactive

Boots thudded up wooden stairs, sea-worn steps protesting beneath his treads. Lighter feet trod just behind him, their prints leaving their mark in water until they reached the top and he shoved open the door.

Maurelin Vaurtefaurt stalked onto the dim-lit landing of the _Kraken's Lair_ , a seedy tavern down by the Limsa Lominsa docks. It constantly stank of salt and fish, and he was certain the ale was watered down, but nearly everything about it was cheap, which served him and his... _partner_ fine.

He glanced back to see said partner, Tahla Amariyo, dripping onto the floorboards. The miqo'te's short hair and fur, the hue of iron, stuck damply to nut brown skin, her ears flicking in disapproval and her tail lashing furiously. Every step back from the Sastasha Seagrot he'd felt her dark amber eyes trying to burn through his back and now she tried to sear a hole in his face. Her recently acquired gray coat was soaked so heavily that he was surprised she didn't crumple beneath its weight, clinging so tightly to her figure that his casual look could discern her every curve.

“All you had to do,” she hissed, “was throw that ruddy axe of yours.”

Maurelin opened the door to his cramped room and took a glance, satisfied he hadn't been robbed. A bed occupied most of it, the frame crumbling under years of sea air, while his meager assortment of belongings lay neatly upon a dresser. “I was somewhat occupied,” the duskwight retorted sharply. “A fishman was trying to shank me with a rusty cutlass, as you might recall.”

She waved her grimoire furiously, its pages shedding droplets, one of which found him right between the eyes. “And I nearly did get stabbed, no thanks to you! I almost _drowned_!”

“Then you should have run towards me rather than into the sea, woman,” he deadpanned, shrugging his axe into his hand and setting it down against . She stalked to his door and leaned against the frame, fuming with such potency he was surprised the lingering seawater in her fur didn't immediately evaporate. “All you had to do was hold the grate.”

A flick of her tail. “How was I supposed to know that a fully grown sahagin was going to magically squeeze out of that tiny grate if I wasn't stood on it or something? Or that _bubbles_ meant that was about to happen?”

He shrugged as he shed his gauntlets. “Ask the gods, not me.” Long fingers toyed with the clasps of his cuirass, undoing them with some difficulty and letting him discard the battered plate. He sighed softly, it had been so pristine when they had come from the Hall of the Novice and now it already looked a wreck, caked in sahagin blood and the scratches of their weapons. He sank to the bed heavily, hearing the frame creak its protest as he began to work on his greaves.

Tahla stayed in the doorway, glaring at him. “ _You're_ supposed to protect _me_! You're lucky that lancer was around or we wouldn't be talking right now!” Ah yes, her gallant knight right out of Ishgard, the elezen mused mockingly. A wildwood elezen, hair fair as the sunlight or whatever nonsense the bards would conjure about him should he not elegantly backflip to his death. From what he'd gathered from Tahla's furious barrage of insults the whole ferry ride back, the lancer had nobly skewered her assailant to a rock before diving into water whose ferocity varied by the minute of retelling to rescue the keeper of the moon. Then he'd ever so _gallantly_ carried their poor conjurer out of the caves and made his dramatic exit to awe some other maiden.

“By the Twelve, Tahla,” he hissed as a clasp dug into his finger painfully, “you stand here in one piece, do you not? A little wet-”

Her eyes flashed dangerously. “A _little_?” She waved her arms at him dramatically, letting drops fall across his floor. “You self-righteous arse! Did you miss me coughing up seawater by the lungful while you were busy sunning yourself?”

The clasp finally came undone and his greave fell away, his fingers moving to the other. “I was rather occupied,” he muttered as he struggled with his armor.

The miqo'te bristled. “Hells take you,” she spat furiously as she shrugged herself off of the door frame. “I'm going to take a bath.”

Deep red eyes flew to her retreating figure. “Hells, woman, I'm drenched in blood and fish guts!” He gestured furiously at his face and body. “By rights the first bath is mine!”

“By rights?” she snarled back. “I have salt crusted on me from top to tail-tip, I stink of fish, and it's _your_ fault, Maurelin! Be gallant for once and let me bathe first!”

His greave clattered to the floor and he rose, their eyes clashing across the room. “While you stood safe at the rear and read from your _book_ , I danced with death and stared it plain in the eyes!”

“While you stood there in your shiny armor and ignored my plight, I had but a coat to fend off a sahagin blade!”

“You would have been safe had you run toward me rather than to the back end of only the gods know where!” the duskwight retorted, fuming.

Tahla bared her fangs as she snapped an answer. “I should have left you in Gridania, you stuck-up sack of shite!”

“Then you'd still be there too! You were the one who wanted to be partners, remember?!” he shot back. He remembered it clean as day, the day she'd idly suggested that since they both shared in the misery that was Gridania's close-minded mistrust, that they should work together to escape it and make their new start in Limsa. “Gods, tis only a bath! Can you not wait but ten minutes?”

Her head shook furiously, ears twitching, fists clenched tight. “After the ordeal I went through because of you, letting me bathe first is just the first amend you can make, you... you... _whoreson knave_!”

“Because of me? You had only to block the grate and you would have been the safest among us!” the marauder snapped. “Have your books stuffed your head such that your common sense has all rotted away?”

Tahla's tail slapped against the door frame. “May the seventh hell swallow you whole,” the miqo'te hissed.

A door slammed open down the corridor. “Twelve spare me, decide who's having the godsforsaken bath and quit yer yapping, or else I'll toss the pair of you in the sea to bathe there and be done with it!” The door slammed closed again and the roegadyn bartender stalked back down the stairs as their eyes remained locked toward him before slowly facing back at each other.

“It's mine,” Tahla snapped in a whisper.

“The hells will take me and Ankabhar will toss me to the brine before you bathe first,” the elezen retorted, already pulling his tunic up to bear his scarred chest.

She leaned closer, eyes narrowed like he was prey as she unbuttoned the coat and shrugged it off. “By the Twelve, I _will_ have the first bath.”

He let the inner beast bare its fangs through his eyes to answer her. “The Twelve themselves would not stop me.”

Lips drew back further, baring fangs and gums. “Then we are at a stalemate, unless you would propose we bathe together and so both claim the first?” For a moment she nearly threw him entirely, the boldness unexpected, the sheer audacity absurd. He was speechless and the lips turned to a smirk, triumph blossoming in her eyes. Defiance sparked within, the inner beast snarling.

“If that is your wish,” he shot back and it was his turn to grin as her eyes widened a fraction. As he thought, she had meant to cow him into submission with a bare-faced bluff rather than meaning it as a serious suggestion, and by accepting her outlandish terms he had wrong-footed her. Surely she would admit defeat and the bath would be his first-

“Very well.”

 _Wait what_ -

The miqo'te smirked again. “I shall see you anon.” Her eyes flicked downward. “You may wish to dress somewhat less.” Her door creaked open and she was gone, the faint sounds of her clothes flopping damply to the floor penetrating the wall.

Maurelin stared with wide eyes and dry mouth. By the gods, what had he just agreed to? For a moment he considered conceding defeat, but the mere thought made his pride rear and roar like a dragon. No. He would not fail in this trial. All he had to do was endure her barely-clothed if not naked presence-

_Gods damn it._

He closed his door, mindful of Ankabhar's hovering wrath, and quickly dispensed of his tunic and trousers, both articles reeking. He stood in his smallclothes, snatching a threadbare towel from where it hung hooked to the back of the door to wrap it around his waist, and as her door creaked open he stepped out to meet her.

Mercifully she stood wrapped in her own towel like it was a dress covering from collarbone to knee. Rivulets clung to her shins, her tail swaying like a pendulum as she brushed past him. If she was surprised, she hid it admirably as she swept down the hall to the bathroom, and he followed after her.

It had surprised him when they first discovered the _Lair_ , but the bath itself was rather more luxurious than he'd anticipated from such a cheap establishment. It stood like a platform above the floor, its skirts hiding the pipework that he understood allowed it to work. When he'd asked just how Ankabhar had afforded such a thing, he was informed that “them blokes at the Ironworks owed me for one thing or another, and that was how we agreed they'd repay it”. Around the tub the floor was tiled, but the walls were still bare wood.

Bless Garlond Ironworks, he thought before Tahla stepped back into view to remind him of the ordeal ahead.

“You might want to shut the door lest any and all passers-by see us,” the miqo'te said dryly.

“Anyone would believe you think me a simpleton,” he mocked as he closed and bolted the door, her hand turning a tap as he did so. Water hissed into the tub, the boiler in the next room clanking into life. Soon enough steam was rising from the water, Tahla resolutely still in her towel as she watched it fill. Her eyes were locked to the water as though she'd turned to stone.

“Gods damn you,” she muttered under her breath.

“I seem to recall you were the one who made the challenge,” he shot back with eyes fixed to the wall and tracing the lines where the wood warped.

“I didn't think you'd be stubborn enough to accept it!”

“And I thought you wouldn't make a challenge you had no intention of backing up, yet here we stand,” the duskwight retorted. Soon enough the bath was full, a fine mist of steam rising from its surface as their eyes glanced across it to find each other.

Tahla's cheeks were uncharacteristically red, hands hovering around her towel. “Let this be over with,” she muttered, and the towel fell away. Maurelin made a heroic effort not to look at her as she made to get in, but some things were beyond even his iron will.

Her dusky skin seemed near flawless to his gaze, the odd mole and scar here and there, a birthmark painted across her lower back. Patches of dampness still lingered despite her towel, pulling his eyes to them as they caught the faint light. Red irises wandered across lithe arms, tracing over rounded breasts and defined muscle, down to thin hips and her tight rump only slightly covered by her tail. The keeper threw him a fiery look as she sank out of sight and caught his eyes stealing glimpses of her bare body.

“If you will ogle me, I will have the same from you,” she hissed, chin brushing the water. Her lips crept into a predatory leer, fangs pressed to the lower.

Maurelin was sure he blushed too despite himself, but he obligingly dispensed with his own towel, followed by his smallclothes.

“Coward,” Tahla smirked as she stared brazenly at his body. He was more muscular than most elezen, swinging an axe all day did that to you, scars torn across his flesh where his armor had failed. He watched her eyes fall lower, drinking in the V of his hips and the patch of hair above his manhood. That itself stood slightly erect despite his efforts, he was sure she noticed.

“Am I to your liking?” he challenged as he climbed in. Mercifully the bath was comfortably large enough for two, giving him room to move without brushing against her.

The miqo'te laughed dismissively. “Small.”

He smirked. “I might say the same of you.”

“All that bravado just to cover your insecurities,” Tahla mocked as she took the soap from its dish in neutral ground along the bath's rim, sitting up enough to raise her shoulders above water. She stopped at the top of her breasts, though he could faintly glimpse them beneath the murky surface. Slowly the miqo'te rubbed soap into her shoulders, sighing. He felt her legs stretch out, felt her feet brush his own and push, but he held his ground.

“All this bluster just to avoid admitting fault,” he retorted with a fierce grin. Her eyes snapped to meet his as the soap flowed down, rubbing into her cleavage.

“You are far from forgiven,” she growled as she rose a little higher, more of her emerging from the depths.

“You are putting on such a show that I hope you forgive a man for mistaking,” Maurelin chuckled.

“I thought you many things, but a peeping tom was not one of them,” the keeper hissed as the soap brushed over a hardened nipple. Her lips parted just slightly.

“Am I a peeping tom if the sight is offered so openly?” the elezen sighed, stretching his arms to form a pillow behind his head. Her feet kicked against him but still he held his ground beneath the water. “You could have simply conceded the bath.”

“Hells to that,” Tahla spat as she finished with the process of soaping up her breasts and buried them back beneath the surface. “I will bear your eyes to be rid of this damned salt and smell.”

“Might I trouble you for the soap?” he teased, stretching his legs back against her. Thighs brushed and slid, her legs passing between his. Her feet found his buttocks against the base and the miqo'te's smirk only grew.

“I will see you pay a dear price for this,” she swore.

“All this over a few onzes of seawater,” the duskwight sighed. “One might think us petty.”

“Only from your high and mighty perspective,” the arcanist hissed, and she flung the soap at his head. Maurelin caught it, nearly losing it when it slipped in his wet hand, but his other hand saved him the task of fumbling in the depths around her body to find it.

“I confess I cannot tell if you are angry with me or flirting with me,” he smirked.

“Then either you have a very strange taste or your flirting ought to be sung of 'cross all Eorzea as an epic farce,” Tahla snapped, before her frustration gave way to a wry grin. “I did not think you had luck in that area, actually. Mayhap that is why you spend your days hacking at rocks when not hewing our enemies.”

“I am far from some crippled impotent, thank you,” the duskwight bristled.

“Have you evidence to back that wild claim of yours?” the miqo'te ventured mischievously, sitting up in anticipation. Her nipples broke the water and his eyes caught them before coming back up to challenge her inquisitive stare.

“I bedded women in Gridania before I ever met you, you interrogator,” he retorted as he ran the soap over his chest, sliding himself up to sit on the rim of the bath. “Won over by my charm,” Tahla did not even try to stifle her giggle, “and my feats of valor.”

“Yes, I am told they had you slaying ladybirds and rodents by the dozens,” she teased. “What feats worthy of a Warrior of Light.”

“Better than accounting numbers into a book all day long while dreaming of better,” he shot back, and her ears flicked angrily.

“Before you mock, who contributed more to this venture of ours?” she retorted. “And who now sits caked in salt because of your laziness?”

“Laziness? You sit caked in salt because of your own stupidity!” His fingers tightened around the soap and it slipped from his grasp, splashing into the bathwater.

Tahla snarled in frustration. “You are such an _arse_ , Maurelin.”

“My thoughts about you precisely,” the elezen snapped back as he groped beneath the water, trying to find the bar but grasping only the water and her thigh.

“Maurelin!” she hissed.

“Stay still!” he retorted, letting her go like she had burned him. But it was like a ghost of her clung to his hand, the softness of her flesh, the way she drew breath when he gripped her.

 _Twelve save me_.

They were ilms apart, he realized when her breath washed over his face. Contrary to her fears her smell was not fish, but spice, herbs, the scent of the forest still clinging to her long after they had left. She had kept books for a herb merchant, hadn't she? Had their scent soaked into her skin over the hours?

“Maurelin-”

“I almost have it!” he barked, desperate to draw back from her and her scent, her skin, her breath. He tried not to touch her but he could not see and as he groped in the murk his hand found hers and their fingers brushed tight.

He expected her to snatch away, to shove him hard against the other side of the bathtub, but only the second happened and not as he expected. She lunged like she was hunting, his back ramming hard against the metal and making him gasp, her face an ilm from his, her eyes fierce and wild.

“You arse,” she muttered furiously with cheeks burnt red. Her hands pressed him hard against the wall as she rose up, tail dripping as it swayed. He yearned to look down and take her in but it was like she had his sight in a vice, locking his red irises to her amber.

“So tell me,” he said, venturing a smirk. “Did your wiles ever win a man to your bed?”

“Shut up,” Tahla hissed through gritted fangs, and before he could disobey she was kissing him more fiercely than he had ever been kissed. He had not lied, he had bedded a few women in Gridania, fellow duskwights. But none of them had been like this, clawing their fingernails into his flesh while their lips devoured his. Tahla was hungry and angry where they had been sycophantic and pliant, and he had never wanted anything more than to have her right here in the bath.

He pressed back as lines of pain burned where her fingernails dug in, her hands scratching from muscular chest to broad shoulders and round to his back. That scent of herbs and forest drowned out all else as he pressed his tongue into hers and dared to put his hands on her shoulders, feeling her muscles taut as she pushed back harder. The taste of her mouth filled his, sharp and bitter, but it set his mind alight with want.

It was only the need to breathe that forced them apart, chests heaving as they hovered close enough to feel warm breath brush on skin. Tahla's eyes slid open, hooded, a purr reverberating from her throat as she kept him pinned. She was half out of the water, her breasts and stomach and hips all dripping and bare to his eyes as he dared to look up at her with a smirk.

“You didn't answer my question,” he teased.

“I think I will,” the keeper smirked right back as one hand slid down beneath the water. He knew what she sought and soon enough he felt her take his cock in hand, the mere sensation enough that his head tipped back as she gave him a languid stroke.

“Tahla-”

Fast as levin she had released him and drawn back to her side of the bath, that mischievous smile playing on her lips. Her beautiful body slid back beneath the water. “You are far from forgiven, I said,” she hissed playfully. “Come and atone, and mayhap I will indulge you.”

“You vixen,” he spat, but he couldn't deny his own desperate want as he surged after her. His hands caught her legs and flowed up them, running over supple flesh to her hips as he chased her lips. They met once, twice, a third time in brief passionate kisses as he rose over her, raining droplets onto her body as he pressed her against the tub's edge hard as she had him. His hands pushed on her breasts, fingers closing hard as talons about them until Tahla growled into the fourth kiss. He squeezed harder and was rewarded with her hiss, breaking the clash of lips to attack her vulnerable throat. Lips brushed on wet flesh, planting a kiss that deepened into a hard suckle. His aching arms relinquished their hold on her bust and returned to cup the keeper's hips beneath the water, slipping deeper to grasp her firm rump while his mouth teased out her gasps.

Tahla's own hands did not lay idle, clutching his back tightly, sliding down to his own rear. “Where's the stick, then?” she teased viciously as she played her fingers across his buttocks. He answered with a growl and the brush of teeth on her skin, making the miqo'te snarl back in delight and bury her fingers in his flesh hard enough for her nails to scratch.

“Twelve,” he hissed into her throat, biting on her skin until she bruised and whined. Her flesh blossomed in red and purple beneath his lips, her body writhing and her legs spreading open. He accepted her invitation by sliding one hand from her ass up and over her thigh, tracing his fingers over the inside of her leg until he found curls of coarse fur. Though he couldn't see her fully through the water, he found his way by touch alone, brushing over wet lips and spreading her petals, exploring her womanhood with fingers rather than eyes for now. The keeper hissed and gasped, shifting to bare more of her chest to his eyes.

“Finger me you whoreson,” she snarled, gritting her teeth as he toyed with her nub and teased a low whine from her throat.

He thought about asking her to beg, but he couldn't resist the urge to indulge her and so he slipped his hand lower and pressed a finger into her folds. Her hips rocked into the touch as the second finger pressed in, feeling her tight around him when he spread them both a little. Tahla bit her lip but he still heard the whimper as he dragged his fingers in and out. His other hand groped her rump and teased at the base of her tail as her composure broke, her eyes becoming lidded as she gasped out loud and shuddered. He couldn't say he was the most experienced man at this, his previous conquests largely aided by copious drinking on both sides, but sheer lust and instinct spurred him on. The elezen nipped a trail of marks across her collarbone to one breast, taking her nipple in his mouth and suckling hard as a third finger slipped inside her. She felt so tight around his digits, walls soaking wet whether from the bath or her own desire, and her desperate whines and growls stirred his blood to boiling. His length ached it was so hard, so needing, so desperate himself for release before he'd even been touched more than once.

He bit down on her breast as he curled his fingers inside and won a howl for his efforts, Tahla heaving against him as she gasped to reclaim her breath. She buried a hand in his hair and grabbed it tight, pulling him back hard enough that he yelped in pain. They rested a moment, both panting as their wild eyes met and held.

“Am I forgiven?” Maurelin smirked.

She answered by shoving him back. “Get up on the side.” The duskwight scrambled to obey, sure of what she was planning as he hauled himself up and let his legs hang wide, baring his throbbing cock to her hungry gaze. The miqo'te pounced on him, grasping the shaft and pumping it up and down, up and down, teasing out a moan from him as she pressed her lips to the engorged head. If this was her first time, the gods were smiling on her, her mere touch driving him dangerously toward the edge of his release before she took him slowly between full lips.

Maurelin couldn't stop the gasp as she engulfed the head, tongue brushing over his hardness and lighting nerves with pleasure. “Surely-” a moan interrupted him, “surely you can take more,” he pressed, and her lidded eyes narrowed. His ploy worked magnificently, the keeper sinking deeper and deeper, working her way down his shaft. He felt her gag on his length and gasp for breath, her spittle running down only to be lapped back up as he buried his fingers in her short hair. He stroked and pinched at her ears as she took him into her mouth again, all the way this time. Her purring reverberated against his manhood and the elezen couldn't stop his hips bucking into her face, so so close to his release but she wouldn't let him even if she hadn't choked again, he knew.

Tahla fell back, his hands falling limp as he stared at her breathless face. Her breast heaved for air, her spit staining her lips and chin as much as it glistened on his throbbing cock. For a moment they held the moment, the anticipation enough to drive a man mad, he thought. Would she make him use his mouth on her or was she prepared for the final act?

Her next move gave no answer, as she stood up. Water cascaded from her lithe body to rejoin the pool around her shins, the keeper turning and bending over. Her elbows rested on the side, her ass rising to stand firm with her tail coyly covering her sex from view. She glanced back over her shoulder with hooded eyes and a teasing smirk that made him ache to bury himself in her and make her scream for the whole of Limsa to hear, Ankabhar be damned to the seventh hell.

Maurelin stood up, stroking himself as his need grew to a peak, feeling her stare on him as she tortured him with sultry eyes and gods-damned tension. He teased out his own strokes, threatening to finish himself before he laid another finger on her. Their eyes locked again and he grinned, her fangs bared in answer.

Her tail lazily lifted, baring dripping wet folds to his hungry gaze. “Stop wasting that tool of yours and put it to some good use,” Tahla growled. He had never moved so fast, almost slipping in his rush to take her, but he made it across the bath without a broken neck. His first thrust was too eager and only grazed the underside of her lips, enough to make her moan and him shudder, but the second was aimed and true. He slid into her, gasping as he felt tight walls wrap around his cock and her tail in turn coil about his waist.

“Is this use good enough for you?” he deadpanned into her ear.

“I'm not sure I feel it,” she hissed back. “You'll have to do better.” His blood burned as he rose to her mockery just as she wanted him to, pulling almost out then ramming all the way back. Tahla gasped, but he had no mercy to offer her, only another ruthless thrust into her tight cunt that made her cry out. He grabbed her ass cheek hard before the next thrust, groping deep enough to imprint his fingermarks on her as he began to fuck her in earnest. Water splashed about his knees as he rutted her like a beast, his sole focus on taking her until she wailed his name so loud even the Twelve would take notice.

Tahla whimpered and gasped, shaking with every deep thrust. His hips slapped against her rump, one thumb digging in at the base of her tail as the other hand went up to clutch the back of her neck. She was exquisite, divine, perfection around his cock, purring voice spilling into filthy wishes and gasps of his name that put spurs in his sides.

“You can fuck me harder than that,” she snarled, and he obliged with hard fast thrusts that punched the wind from her lungs. She gasped breathlessly as he kept the pace.

“Hard enough for you?” he growled back.

“No!” His fingers tightened on her neck and she tightened around him in answer, a moan escaping his throat as she squeezed his shaft inside her. “You have to do better than that!”

“You vicious _whore_ ,” he snarled into her ear and felt her whimper with need as he hammered her cunt. She collapsed onto the side of the bath as one hand slipped under her, doubtless to paw at her clit from the whines and wails that soon grew in her throat. How could he have another woman after this? She fit so perfectly around him, held him inside her as though she had been crafted for him and he for her. He had never looked at her with romantic eyes before, sure she was but a business partner who would inevitably go her way as he went his.

He reached down to find her breast, groping, kneading in tandem with thrusts that slowed briefly to let him catch his own breath. The reprieve was short for them both, soon returned to him taking her to the hilt over and over. She cried breathlessly when he found her spot, gasping his name when he struck it again, her fingers furiously toying with herself as her voice grew higher and higher.

“Maurelin-!” she wailed, trembling against him, and he was dancing along the edge himself. “Maurel-Maurelin, outside-”

The elezen took one last thrust, savoring the feeling of her around him before he pulled back out. Tahla's hips bucked, her fingers slipping to fill the sudden void inside her as she wailed his name and her orgasm took her. She shuddered and slipped to her knees with a loud splash, breathless purrs and whines falling from her lips. Maurelin stroked himself with desperate need, groans passing his lips as he watched her, getting closer, closer, closer until finally-

White seed erupted from his cock, thick as it splattered on the miqo'te's back. The first spurt splashed into her hair, the second falling shorter to paint her spine. Two more followed as he kept going, teasing every last drop out to coat her in his release. Once he was spent he gasped breathlessly, falling back into the bath himself and panting on his knees behind her, eyes tracing the abstract he had drawn on her skin rather than fill her with.

After a long silence, Tahla looked at him and grinned. “Good enough.”

The elezen gave a sarcastic chuckle. “Dare I hope I am forgiven?”

“Gods, no,” she laughed. “You have a lot more to do before that.”

His eyes narrowed and he smirked. “I shall have to get to work.” Before he could grab her hips, a thunderous hammering came at the door.

“I'm glad the pair of you settled yer row, but do you mind not tumblin' so ruddy loud when I'm trying to serve the evening rounds! And if you've gotten me bathroom soaked I'll have yer guts for garters 'less you clean it up!”

Tahla giggled as the roegadyn stomped away once more. “It seems I'm not the only one you need to be forgiven by.”

Maurelin rolled his eyes. “Nothing that a night or two of tending his bar in his stead cannot solve. And mayhap we can put it to good use after close.”

The keeper grinned. “You wicked man.” She whirled fully, slipping back to sit in the water. “Mayhap we should find the soap, then. You have made quite a mess of me and we ought to be presentable when we go down to beg forgiveness for your rashness.”

“ _My_ rashness?” he chuckled. “I seem to recall it was you who proposed we bathe together.”

“Was it?” she teased. “I shall have to make suggestions more often.” She grinned at him with that hungry smirk and the sight of it made him giddy with the possibilities that awaited.

Perhaps she would be his partner in a rather different sense from then on.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting erotic content but I liked these two stubborn idiots too much not to put their misadventure up for others to read. I'd gladly welcome feedback since I'm certain I have a lot to learn about writing smut and about writing in general.


End file.
